A True Layan
by The Good Doctor
Summary: I'd like to call this a pioneer story in terms of dealing with one of the most baffling characters in Phantasy Star III: Ryan.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: A Moment of Glory **

Ryan pulled his thick cloak tightly against his body as he stepped out of the inn and into the ankle-deep snow that carpeted the streets of Mystoke. He was alone; Nial and the others had retired to their rooms for the evening. The long trek across the freezing plains of Frigidia had taken their toll on his cohorts' morale and health; they would need at least a full day's rest-if not more-before heading into Mystoke castle. The Layan rebel, however, was made of sturdier stuff; an entire life of living on the periphery of Elysium society had toughened him up more than Nial and Laya would ever understand.

The Layan rebel wandered aimlessly through the streets of the great Laya's hometown, never quite sure if he was sight-seeing or looking for something. Few people were outdoors at this hour and the only sounds he could hear were the murmurs of the Mystokians inside their homes and the chilly wind groaning through the empty intersections of the town.

It didn't take long for Ryan to get lost in the endless alleyways of the city's residential district, although the man couldn't care less. His colleagues were probably going to rest long enough that he could finish his outing and return to the inn before they noticed that he was gone.

Ryan's trudging through the snow eventually brought him to a wide alley not too far from the castle. The sight that greeted him as he entered the street surprised him: dozens of people huddled together, trying to keep warm in the freezing temperatures. The Layan man's heart throbbed with compassion as he gazed upon the wretched masses of the Layan lower class, people who struggled to keep warm with thin blankets and even thinner clothing. A few small fires made in the street provided enough warmth for some of them to not feel the now-stinging cold while simultaneously cooking some broth or soup whose smell made Ryan think that they were simply eating anything edible that they could find littering the ground.

Little children gathered around the fires, furiously rubbing their reddened hands together, their loving mothers sacrificing their own comfort in order to guarantee that of their children. For several long minutes, Ryan said nothing. Finally, he joined himself to the masses and struck up conversation with one of the men who stood about with a group of other destitute fathers.

"I've never seen you around here, before," the man said.

Ryan grunted. "Yeah, I'm not actually from Mystoke, or Frigidia for that matter."

"I can tell. Layan or Orakian?"

"Does it matter?" responded Ryan, a bit defensively.

"I suppose not. Once you're at the bottom of the barrel, it doesn't really matter who you are; you just fight to survive."

The Layan rebel wiped some snow from his shoulders. "So how did you all find yourselves out here in the cold?" he asked, concerned.

The man sighed. "No central government to see to our plight, perhaps. The population of Mystoke grew, but the city itself has always stayed the same size. Not enough room, I guess. For quite a few years—and by that I mean generations-we stayed at the castle, since there was no royal family around to occupy it anyways."

Ryan lifted an eyebrow. He closed his eyes, hidden to the man by his shades, and played the image of the poor and downtrodden Frigidians setting up their homes in the abandoned castle. It probably wasn't comfortable, and it was probably still cold inside, but at least they were protected from the freezing winds and frequent blizzards within its confines. "Seems like you had a good deal back there," he observed. "Why would you leave it behind?"

The man laughed bitterly. "We didn't leave as much as we were expelled."

Ryan took a deep breath; he knew where this conversation was going. "By Lune?" he asked expectantly.

The man nodded. "A garrison of Lune's army showed up one day in Mystoke and declared that they would occupy the castle. They forced us out of it, telling us that the great Laya's palace was not the place for 'the rabble of her people.' 'Couple of the men tried to fight back, but were hacked to pieces and strewn about the numerous living chambers and dungeon cells as an example." Tears began run down the man's face, freezing and solidifying as they reached the middle of his frostbitten cheek. "There's just nowhere else for us to go anymore," the man lamented. "I doubt any of us could make it from here to New Mota, and, even if we did, there are probably even less opportunities to work there than here."

Ryan watched the man clench his fist, but said nothing. He himself felt like doing the same thing; Lune's foolish war against the Orakians was bringing misery to his own people. He had foreseen this; that's why he had become a rebel.

The man went on, "I don't know if Laya would've wanted this for her people. I don't know if she's looking down at us with compassion, or if she's cackling from wherever she is, glad that her castle is now 'unsullied.' But you see all of us here? The Orakians never did anything to us, this is all in-house. Ironic, huh?"

Before he could speak up, Ryan's concentration was broken by a sudden desperate scream. He and the other Layan men spun around to see a woman sitting against the wall of a house, crying profusely. He jogged through the snow over to the woman, who was holding a child in the arms. The kid, a young red-haired girl of about seven, lay motionless, her eyes open, but ultimately lifeless. Her skin was so pale that it practically blended in with the snow itself. The young girl had frozen to death.

Another child, a few years older than the girl who lay lifeless in the loving embrace of her mother, his face smudged with ashes, stood over the woman's shoulder, staring sorrowfully at his dead sibling. The young boy shivered as cold ate through his shredded tunic. Ryan looked at the boy and smiled. He removed his cloak from his body, instantly exposing his body to the chilly winds that blasted the denizens of the alley. He sat the boy down next to his mother and wrapped his cloak around both of them. Before either of them could thank him, the rebel stormed out of the alley way, in the direction of Laya's castle.

Stepping through the gates, he was immediately met by a pair of violet-haired women brandishing long swords, their equally-violet armor hidden beneath thick, brown mantles; they were Amazons. "Halt!" cried one of them. "Identify yourself!"

Ryan tried to mask the anger that welled up inside. "I am Ryan, a dragon knight of the armies of Laya!" he retorted.

The two Amazons looked at each other and nodded. "Thou art welcome here, dragon knight. What may we do for you?"

"I want answers," bellowed Ryan, who ceased to mask his contempt for the two representatives of Lune's army. "Why were the occupants of the castle expelled? It was their home!"

"I'm sorry," said the Amazon unapologetically. "Lune's orders. Laya's palace is considered to be a place just as sacred as any of her temples and shall be treated as such. That means no—"

Ryan silenced the warrior woman with a wave of his hand. "Can't you see? The very people that you all are fighting for are freezing to death at Lune's orders!" he screamed. At that moment, he felt a strange sensation in his right hand. The dull pain in his fingers alerted Ryan to the fact that he was beginning to transform. The hair on his right arm promptly fell into the snow and soon his olive skin was replaced with golden scales. His fingernails grew into long, sharp claws.

The Amazons apparently had not quite noticed the limited transformation because one of them continued. "We are only obeying Lune's orders. Now, if you to persist in arguing with us, we're going to have to ask you to vacate the premises."

The dragon knight let out a loud screech and swung his right arm in the direction of one of the armed warriors. Before she could lift her sword in defense, his claws ripped into the woman's throat, causing blood to spurt in all directions, dying the snow around them crimson. The Amazon grasped what was left of her neck as she fell backward, staining more of the ground around her.

Her companion stared in horror and was about to lift her sword against Ryan when he hissed at her. "Tell Lune that his days are numbered and that his stupid war will soon come to an end, starting with garrison stationed here. You have one day to pull out of this place, otherwise the Layan-Orakian Alliance will crush each and every last one of you all. The choice is yours."

The surviving Amazon stared fearfully at Ryan and then ran back into the castle, leaving her slain companion lying in the crimson ice. The Layan, whose arm had reverted back to its human form, turned away and walked quickly back to the inn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Back into Obscurity**

There was something breathtaking about the grassy plains of Elysium as viewed from several hundred feet above. Ryan insisted to his fellow rebels that he avoided going through the Divisia whenever possible because he preferred the quiet solace and fresh air that a hike through Elysium highlands offered. Today was no different, save the little fact that there was no more war going on and that his return to the cave was to disband the rebellion, rather than planning yet another ambush against Lune's forces.

All of that was thankfully in the past. The Layan-Orakian Alliance, led by Prince Nial of Landen, had succeeded in defeating Lune's forces and, more importantly, the near-immortal general himself. Furthermore, Nial had chosen to marry Alair—for what reason, Ryan couldn't quite figure out—thus guaranteeing that the end of the war would be definitive and not just an uncomfortable cease-fire. Ryan sort of wondered if Nial had chosen Alair for that very reason: to keep an eye on Lune, whom, truth to be told, neither of the two trusted. But beyond that, Alair was so beautiful that even Laya stood dwarfed in her presence, and Nial being a young man above all, might've been attracted more to her beauty than to Laya's power.

Not that it really mattered, since Ryan's purpose had been fulfilled. He had fought the good fight and now there would be peace between the two peoples. That is really what mattered to him: peace.

Gazing at the low, rolling emerald hills below him, Ryan remembered the violent ambushes and skirmishes that had been fought between him and Lune's genocidal forces. He had first fought those alongside his own warriors, who had sided with him when he declared that the destruction of Satera was an affront to Laya's memory. Then, when he had met Nial, he found in the young man a mirror in that both wanted peace. In the name of a greater ideal, they strived against the forces of Lune in those same green plains, spilling blood because they needed to, not because they wanted to. Fortunately, the natural beauty that was Elysium would soon be graced by the absence of conflict once more.

It was still half a day's journey back to the Rebel Cave, where the remainder of his forces had remained after he joined Nial's party. Ryan walked carefully along the rocky trail, splitting his thoughts between his concentration on not making a false step, which would result in his plummeting to his demise, and the same thought that had plagued him since his victory against Lune: What now?

Ryan tried to formulate numerous plans of what he would do with his life. Nial had invited him to be an adviser on Dahlia, although he had turned it down, using the excuse that he was "too claustrophobic to stay on the lonely moon for too long." He could always move into Divisia, since news of his role in ending the war would inevitably reach the city and he'd be welcomed by the people. He could always stay at the cave; he was sure that Yumi, his favorite samurai, wouldn't mind giving him company there.

None of those possibilities seemed to resonate with him, though. Maybe because he felt that there was still far too much to do in order to repair the damages caused by the war. He could always present himself to King Rhys of Landen and offer to help rebuild Satera or—

The idea hit him: As soon as he finished disbanding the rebels, he would go back to Frigidia. His thoughts recalled the haunting image of the young Layan girl who had died of exposure to the cold less than a month before. He did not know what had become of those marginalized citizens of Mystoke and, since Laya had decided to go back into her cryogenic sleep, there still wasn't anyone to stand up for them. He wasn't sure what exactly he could do for them.

Maybe he could help them reinstall themselves in the Mystoke Castle, or maybe move everybody over to Elysium. He could convince Nial to accept them, since there weren't that many subjects to rule over on Dahlia to begin with.

His mind was quickly brought back to reality by the sound of rocks rolling down the face of the mountain a short distance behind him. Carefully, Ryan turned around to see if there was any creature prowling around near him. By the time he turned around, the brief commotion brought on by gravity's greedy pull had come to an end, leaving only stillness it its wake. Ryan removed his shades and squinted at the side of the mountain, but found no sign of life, human or monster, in the area.

He negotiated the narrow path cut into the side of the mountain until it started to grow a little wider. Ryan's nerves relaxed as he stepped into the more stable portion of the trail, where he'd have a little more elbow room. Running his hand through his jet black hair, the Layan dragon knight let out a loud sigh.

In response came a soft sound of something scraping against the rocky side of the mountain just below the edge of the footpath. Ryan stood in one spot, simply observing the edge of the trail, waiting to see if anyone—or anything—would climb onto the ledge. The scraping continued, but nothing showed itself.

Ryan inched slowly to the edge of the trail and looked down. A bright flash of light immediately blinded him. Suddenly, Ryan felt a searing pain in his belly, causing him to groan and stumble backwards and fall. To his horror, he saw a large sword sticking out of his stomach. His clothes were already soaked in the blood that flowed out of the wound.

A large shadow fell over him. Looking up, Ryan saw an amazon standing over him, glaring at him with a cruel smile etched into her face. It was the same one whom he had confronted at the gates of the Mystoke Castle just a few weeks before.

"That's for my sister," she said intensely.

Ryan reached for his staff, but the warrior maiden quickly kicked it out of his grasp and pinned in his hand to the ground with her steel heel, causing him to how loudly. Only partially regaining his senses, the dragon knight barked, "The war is over!" He knew that his declaration would be fruitless, as the amazon was obviously motivated by something other than Layan patriotism.

"I know. But Lune's orders to stop the war never settled our little feud." The amazon knelt down and ran her index finger across his soaking wet garments and licked it. "I think we can call it even now."

Ryan tried to force himself up, but a swift kick to his chest kept him helpless. "You…you…just wait until Lune finds out!"

The amazon let out a screeching, bird-like cackle. "And who's going to tell him? You? I don't think so," she started condescendingly; "You're going to die out here in obscurity. Nobody—not even your Orakian friends—will ever no what happened here."

Trying to tune out the forcefulness of her words, Ryan focuses his energies into performing a technique to at rid himself of his enemy, but the amazon noticed and quickly rammed the sword farther into his gut, intensifying his pain.

"Oh no, you don't," taunted the maiden. "In a few hours I'll be rejoining the ranks of Dahlia's army, sharing war stories with your old friends and enemies, while you rot out in the open. The valkyries and other amazons and I will dedicate a glass of wine to my fallen sister, while everybody assumed that the great dragon knight Ryan went his way just as mysteriously as he appeared."

With that, the amazon thrust her foot across his face, shattering his jaw and knocking him onto his side. With a triumphant shriek, she disappeared down the mountain trail.

Ryan lay inert on the mountain trail, one side of his face buried in the earth, blood running quietly from his mouth and mingling with the dust. He had no more energy left to do much of anything, except to wait for death to overtake him.

It came slowly, but was soon embraced. The sounds of the wind rushing down the side of the mountain grew more distant. The pain that had tormented him so much just moments before gave way to numbness. His vision grew dim. Within a few moments, Ryan closed his eyes and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Epilogue: Forgotten**

Many years have passed, possibly centuries. The _Alisa III_ is now teeming with people, both Palman and Terran. More settlements have been built in the numerous domes, including the beautiful green land of Elysium. The settlements are simple for the most part and their inhabitants live humbly off the resources available.

One day a group of young adventurers decide to scale a nearby mountain. While negotiating a rather dangerous trail, the youngsters come across a single skeleton lying in the dust. Lying on the ground near it is a heavy blade, probably from some sort of sword. If it is a sword, the haft would have long since decayed and the blade itself is cankered with rust.

A closer inspection by our young observers will reveal a slight fracture in one of the skeleton's hands, as well a missing lower mandible, which will be found a few yards away near the edge. For several minutes the adolescents look, scrutinize and point at the skeleton, making jokes and speculations about how it got there. One suggests that he was a bandit leader who had been betrayed by his men and left for dead. Another suggests that he was also a robber, but instead of being a leader, he was a low-level grunt who had been executed and disposed of in the mountain for being a stool pigeon. A third suggests that he was merchant who had been sequestered by thieves and ultimately slain by them.

It will never occur to them that the bones before them belonged to a great fighter from the Layan people, who have ceased to be called that name. Nor will it occur to them that said fighter had played an integral role in ending a war between the inhabitants of the ship so many generations before. Moreover, those youths will never imagine that the remains of the man before them was a great dragon knight, who possessed the magical ability to transform into a creature of legend, an ability reserved for a select few among the ancient Layan people.

They will not think of those things. No, they will simply look at the skeleton for a few moments until their interest wanes, after which they will resume their trip. They hope that they will find more skeletons along the way, but they will be disappointed. In the end, they will descend the mountain and return to their homes, leaving the bones of Ryan, the Layan rebel leader, to be forgotten upon the mountain path.


End file.
